Psyke.org

Dianna

A Stain, Oh So Dark…

Copyright Dianna

I am a seventeen year old who has been in ‘love’ with self harm for about two years now. I am currently attending high school in a small town, and surprisingly enough I am doing quite well.

At any rate, I can still remember the first time I ever cut. I was sitting in my room, with the music playing low and I could hear the voices of my family members below me. They were laughing and having a great time which made me think, ‘How can they be so happy, when I am feeling so alone?’

Holding the cold razor against my skin I was shaking. I didn’t know what to expect. Would it hurt? How much would it bleed?

Furious thoughts continued to fly through my mind. Why did my dad have to die? Why has mom begun to use alcohol as a crutch? How can my sister leave me here alone with her?

Finally, once I had built the courage up I dragged the razor across the top of my arm. And I clearly remember gasping. I didn’t gasp because it hurt, no. I gasped because finally everything I was holding inside of me was slowly beginning to pour out. The blood trickled down my arm, creating drops that inevitably fell to the floor, painting it red. It was a feeling oh so magical. Words cannot describe it. So I dragged the razor across my arm again, and again. I dragged that razor across my arm so many times that I could no longer hold it due to the blood that had formed a blanket around it. Instantly, a smile came across my face. I finally had something that I could call mine. My own little secret. We would be best friends.

The months passed by, and I continued to confide in my ‘best friend’. I would become excited when I realised that I would be given the opportunity to indulge in self harm. As the time continued to race on, the space lacking scars and fresh cuts on my arms was slowly dwindling. My arms were becoming a canvas for my own art lessons. Approximately one year later is when it became serious. Gaping wounds were being inflicted by myself onto my scarred arms. My skin was giving up. My skin no longer had what it took to heal the wounds, and my body was becoming extremely distorted quickly.

I informed a close friend about my situation and she thought it would be best if we told someone about what I had been engaging in for the past year. I agreed that yes, it was time to put an end to the friendship that I had created only a year earlier. This friendship was one which was toxic and it had to end.

She informed a very well liked teacher at my school who approached me after they spoke. I admitted that yes, I had indeed been a slave to self-destruction. I had no clue what I was in for. She informed the principal and a guidance counsellor at the school and together they told me that they were going to have to phone my mother and explain the situation to her. I immediately burst into tears. How could they do this to me? I offer them honesty, and they turn their backs on me.

Once the whole dilemma had been explained to my mother we were referred to a psychiatrist who thought it would be best if I had a stay in the hospital due to the severity of the situation. The result was a two week stay in the psychiatric ward at a local hospital. I was diagnosed with depression, and a mood condition. Immediately, I was put on medications to help stabilise me.

After my stay in the hospital I returned home and did not touch a razor for two weeks. I was so proud. But soon, that would change.

After seeing a skin specialist and having him inform me that he could do nothing to help my condition I began cutting again. This time it was even more severe.

Five months later, and here I am. I am still indulging in self harm. Some days I wake up and say to myself that this has to end, while other days I am reluctant to find a different coping method. I still have this wonderful and horrible friendship with my baby; the razor. We are best friends, and we are worst enemies. It is a total paradox. At any rate, someday I do hope to be able to overcome this. But only time will tell.

For all those whom are currently struggling with self harm, I completely understand the feeling, and I am more than glad to help. Message me if you would like to speak, I would be ecstatic to help out. Everyone be safe, and take care.

 

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